


Property of Arthur

by Renne



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-25
Updated: 2010-09-25
Packaged: 2017-10-12 05:01:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/121069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renne/pseuds/Renne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blatant porn with come marking and an Arthur who is a little bit toppy. Inspired by a shopped picture of Tom Hardy in a "Property of Arthur" t-shirt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Property of Arthur

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [here](http://futureperfect.livejournal.com/847428.html). Picture prompt [here](http://fuckyeahinceptionships.tumblr.com/post/1155140977/raphmike-and-you-people-judge-eames-fashion).

The look on Arthur's face is sheer, flaming mortification when he sees Eames walking towards them. Eames had promised Arthur ( _promised_ him, crossed his heart, hoped to die, etc) that he would never wear that shirt in public ever and now here he is casually strolling across the airport towards them, proudly displaying that he is, in fact, the property of Arthur.

Ariadne snorts, Yusuf actually laughs, even Saito has a bit of a chuckle at Arthur's expense. Cobb leans in. "Is there something you need to tell us, Arthur?" he asks in a serious tone. The sound of Arthur grinding his teeth is clearly audible to everyone.

"Excuse me," Arthur hisses, stalking across to meet Eames, intending on giving him a rather large section of his mind.

The closer he gets though, the harder it is to maintain any kind of righteous indignation. Eames just looks so damn _pleased_ with himself, completely at ease and... and God, Arthur hadn't noticed how well that damn t-shirt fit him across the shoulders before, how tight it was around his biceps and... oh God, the way it left the ink visible spilling across his skin. Suddenly, instead of being angry Arthur is blindsided by lust.

He needs to get his hands up under the shirt all over warm skin as soon as humanly possible, and even though he knows everyone is watching (expecting some kind of embarrassing blow up in the middle of the airport, or a quiet, intense moment where Arthur tells Eames just how disappointed and embarrassed he is, no doubt) he doesn't say anything when he reaches Eames, just hooks his fingers into Eames' pocket and tugs. "You," he says, "you are coming with me. _Now_."

The restroom is empty - How is it empty? How the fuck is it honest to God empty? - and Arthur makes a mental note to thank each and every one of his lucky stars by name as he drags Eames in after him. "Arthur?" Eames says, his voice low and amused and intrigued.

"Shut up," Arthur says. "Shut up, you don't get to say anything, you said you wouldn't wear that shirt in public, you have forfeit your right to say _anything at all_."

"Okay, but--"

And with that Arthur slaps his hand over Eames' mouth, shoving him backwards into one of the stalls. There is no way to be subtle about this, because they're in an airport restroom for gods sake, but Arthur kicks the door shut as Eames fumbles for the lock and Arthur replaces his hand with his mouth. He is so stupid with lust right now he's not sure how he hasn't come in his pants already.

Then Arthur works his hands up under Eames' shirt and God, all that skin is his to touch, even now like this, in the restroom of an airport and he mutters, "Oh fuck," against Eames' mouth just as Eames' hands slide down to his ass, hitching him close. He grinds up against Eames a hard, rutting moment before he drags his mouth away. "I want you to suck me," Arthur says. It's a breath shy of an order and to Eames' credit he doesn't even question it, just turns them both until Arthur's shoulders are pressed up against the wall, dropping to his knees with the kind of grace it should be fucking _criminal_ for a man his size to have.

The clink of Arthur's buckle is loud in the empty restroom and Eames tugs down Arthur's trousers and boxers to free his cock. Arthur pushes Eames' hands away a moment with a flick of his wrist and with one hand cupping the back of Eames' head he takes his cock in the other and slowly rubs the head against Eames' lips. Eames' tongue flicks out and Arthur lets out a low moan on the end of a shuddering breath as Eames licks him. He slides his cock into Eames' mouth, enjoying more than just the feeling of heat and wet, enjoying the way Eames' eyes slip closed, the way Eames makes his own noises of needy pleasure around the length in his mouth. Enjoying sliding his fingers into Eames' wet mouth alongside his cock. Enjoying the way Eames gets off on this as much as he does.

Arthur isn't completely unaware of Eames' own needs, so he shifts his foot, pressing gently against the bulge in Eames' pants. When he rocks his foot Eames whimpers around him, his hips jerking and stuttering, his fingers spasming on Arthur's hips. "Good?" Arthur asks.

"Nngh," Eames says.

"I want you to touch yourself," Arthur says and this time it is an order, even if it is delivered in a broken, hitching voice. Eames does what he's told, unbuttoning and unzipping his fly (and of course he's not wearing any underwear, shit that is so fucking sexy), wrapping his fingers around his cock. Arthur twists and shifts a little so he can see Eames stroking himself with a shaking hand even as he sucks Arthur off, sloppy and needy and eager.

It won't take much of that to make Arthur come and he pets Eames' hair appreciatively a moment, before twisting his fingers in the short strands and tugging Eames' head back. He strokes his cock twice and then he's coming, mostly in Eames' mouth, on his chin, across his cheeks. Arthur groans low in the back of his throat because fuck it feels so good, and fuck Eames looks so good, all marked up like that. Looking up at him, bright-eyed and desperate, smears of white on his skin. Arthur says, "Come for me, Eames," and Eames' eyes flutter shut and he does, Arthur's name a broken whine on shiny lips.


End file.
